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ibkreator Oct 5
once you've thought about it

catch it in the feeling below the kneck
before it reaches into your minds eye
your mood is the magnet to all thought realised
as i sat in the decadence

of that New York moment

i knew i was in trouble

for the depth of my love

was darker than the red i sipped
realisation can be a hard pill to swallow at times
Dante Rocío Sep 2
Like breeze caressing in its
trap a feather grey in air’s
flight so have I
been caught
in un fulmine dei pensieri di
appena circa una dozzina
di minuti

And I have to most urgently
capture Me in this
flight and non-tormenting
air bubbles coming
out of my watery
treelike sight
breathing this moment
of realisation
yet hard/strongly
while I’m at it,
at Shepherd’s meaning
of Treasure in
Coelho’s work cast
especially on me
& my antics of Now.

And that letter
here to be
shall be
for a moment under
that pencil:
scribbling on sun-scorched
plane passing,
and greater future to come

For when you
drink from a little bit
of Life itself in
you without any stimuli
foreign to you,
you’ll see that
is it that’s the most feverish
in what’s the best,
the sufficing binge.

I’m giving into
your hands this
redemption of mine till
for currently it
is the biggest truth
given to me

I sense these Signs
as they find each other on Me,
like they make me insert
all the answers,
with a hard semblance
and the durability
of the terrace wood
against my worked up skin,
in my lungs.

To where will my Own Legend
lead me?
There are certain
and in-depth
in this moment,
in the castle of the epilogue,
of the book,
in crystal blue,

in how all the world now
persists in my head
desiring to leave
a trace somewhere here
so as not to let go
of my hand
from its.

And the Sun
that parts almost at
dusk through
a hollow in the clouds
behind my back
seems to be winking, glance throwing,
of a foreboding,
of its presence,
on what will be able
to come.
And it’s gone.

And how Pueyo would say it:
“May no one deprive
me of living.”
I say it to all the pop culture,
and these false suns
“I’m not yours to take”
as much as I can.

And should we not listen
to understand
instead of
to reply?
Aren’t constant thoughts
that replying,
and pure being that
taking in (all the striving),
like when facing forest
in a
to encounter?

Hold me like that,
that as I am,
in your hands
for a while.
Noting old taken in Eden-wise sight,
heat yet persisting of a sodden fight
thanks to “The Alchemist”‘s trials
And the epilogue
Sent by letter
To Italy
Esther Aug 23
you know
if we never moved
perhaps we could stop time
everything would be frozen
in this infinite moment
the stars would stay in the same position
on this deep blue canvas
if we never left that beach
everything would stay still
if we never moved
you know
living our lives out in a painting, chasing after you beneath the stars 🌌
Jamesb Aug 15
Sunlight filtered
By trees that last night
Stood nearly silent guard
About us as we  broke
New ground,
Dapples the canvas
Of my tent

Daylight and day bird's chirrup
Would deny the mystery of what went before,
Gone the soft silence
Of the silver moon,

Perhaps too that which
May after all be but dream
Despite the delicious languor
In mine limbs and
Through my soul

I lay betwixt and between,
Half awake and
Half still clinging
To my dream when with
Movement not of mine
Tousled brunette over a shy and sleep creased smile
Says "hi"
I think many will identify with the underlying tenet of this one. That exquisite realisation that it wasn't a dream after all...
Jamesb Aug 15
You will not
Feebly try to waft
My attention away,
Nor use inebriant half no's
To divert mine intent,
No slack jawed half closed unfocused
Gaze will look searching
My face from a haphazard pillow,

For I will not permit That easy excuse,
Nor will I be a
Half memory or an
“Oh that happened - again"
There will be no groggy awakening
Thick with the night before's effect
To face a morning guilt or shame,
Oh no...
Not this time,

This time amidst
The trees and dark
Your every sense
Will know the path We tread,
And not by map nor memory,
For none before ever felt like this,
And there are no maps on page or screen
That show or describe the delicious
Delight of our destination,

So all unknown Dreamed half of,
Yearned for in
That sense of "there must be more",
And here it is,
Alive and true and happening not in a screen near by
But you,

A you who is free
Of alcohol and drug,
A you who's mind is clear,
A you who is party to what may follow,
A you who adores not endures the
Anticipation the foreplay
And the game
Above all a you who takes full part,
Who says yes because she's asked,
There's an elusive thing I'm trying to capture - every poem does I guess. Maybe the reader can judge my success
Jamesb Aug 15
No drink nor drugs
No fog nor *****
This time,
No feeble wafting
Or barely stated
"No" nor "please"

No victim yielding
Passive acceptance
This time,
No waking slow
After the fact
The ****,

No sense of being
Used in absence,
Your body spread
And penetrated
While your mind
Was far away

This time awake,
This time Participant,
This time giving
That well used yet still
Functionally ****** part

This time to feel
Every scrape of fabric lost,
Every embrace,
Each caress,
Every fingers touch

Upon private skin
That never felt
So alert so alive
So aching to be

And no pretence
This time,
There is no innocence nor
Excuse that's worth
The name

For this is you
And this is us
And we both know
The rules of this
Fine game

So thus are you
Deliberately stepping in harms way

Yet safe as your mind
Wanders again but
A different way,
A way of awareness and delight

Til finally that release
And surrender by
Conscious will,
That step across the edge of reason

That fall craved fully
Half a century
Comes finally
Home to roost
Based upon the struggles and the awakening of a remarkable person
I know I'm that someone,
Who's really hard to handle!
But hurting someone,
Is never my intention!

I'm way to staright forward,
when it comes to expressing emotions,
My words come out of my mouth,
Just like a slippery lotion!

I'm sorry to each and everyone out there,
for being so blunt,
I really did not imagined that,
it looked like, I had flaunt!

This poem is not to show off,
It's from a revee,
It's just a poem which I wrote yesterday,
out of my believe!
It's never to late to say sorry, & mean it!
(Glossary help:
*revee: revee is a sweet girl who has a sensitive heart. she will sometimes act like she is tough but on the inside she is absolutely soft.)
Nina Jul 27
‪Why the sudden change of heart?
‬, she asked

‪"Maybe because I realise
what I'm losing out if i lose you"‬
he replied

That's when he knew
He lost her
When she was no longer there
Waiting for him
You only know what you're missing once its gone
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